


Thus I do Pine

by stephen_is_strange



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Shakespearean Sonnets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:19:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephen_is_strange/pseuds/stephen_is_strange
Summary: Aziraphale had wanted this for some time now. A moment of intimacy, uninterrupted by Above, Below, or any of the creatures in between. His darling Crowley. held safely in his arms, balanced easily on the couch that seemed just big enough to accommodate their forms no matter how much or how little room they took up.Aziraphale and Crowley cuddling in the bookshop, tenderly reciting Shakespeare to each other.





	Thus I do Pine

Aziraphale had wanted this for some time now. A moment of intimacy, uninterrupted by Above, Below, or any of the creatures in between. His darling Crowley. held safely in his arms, balanced easily on the couch that seemed just big enough to accommodate their forms no matter how much or how little room they took up. Their position meant that his head was just above Crowley's shoulder blades, much too short to meet him head to toe.

"You're so warm," Crowley said, and Aziraphale could melt in the soft way he spoke.

"You're awfully affectionate this evening," Aziraphale teased.

"It's January, I've been freezing in my flat, and your bookshop, in all its cluttered mess, is always very pleasant." Perhaps it was a little defensive, but he was simultaneously burrowing further into Aziraphale's warmth. "And you're the one who wanted to cuddle." 

"So I did," Aziraphale said. He laid his hands flatter against Crowley's slim stomach, let his pinkies dance across the exposed skin between his shirt and pants. Crowley occasionally twitched, the gentle glide enough to raise goosebumps and tickle his skin.

"I love you," Aziraphale mouthed, lips forming words at the back of Crowley's neck but no sound escaping. Goosebumps rose to meet his lips, Crowley's body tensing just a bit under his hands.

"You know I do, too," Crowley said, a slight question in his voice that revealed he was actually quite nervous. Aziraphale could feel the love pouring off of him from thousands of miles away so he's positively drowning in it now, close as they are.

"I know." And he did, had known for longer than he could remember but had always pushed it away for fear of the resulting backlash. Now there was nothing but them and peace on Earth.

Crowley had begun to drift off relatively quickly after that, leaving Aziraphale to speak mostly to the air about how horrible some of his patrons had been for even asking about the price of a book, much less actually intending to buy one, from his most prized collection of Wilde first editions no less.

"I had to work quite hard for those. Wilde was… well, Wilde only gave things to those he… knew, and well, I just had to have one, Crowley, so I came to know Wilde. So I'm not just going to give them away, not after… not after making the effort, just to have them."

Aziraphale knew by the way Crowley wriggled that he got a kick out of Aziraphale's greatest temptation, a dear author so freely giving out first editions if only one came to know him. It had to be like candy to the demon, especially for one who thought gluing down coins was truly evil or that a road in the shape of a demonic sigil was what would doom souls to hell in the best way possible.

"Zira, angel, what book would I have to write to get to know you?" Crowley was only half-joking, Aziraphale could feel the love a little stronger on his belly, where they were joined.

"You don't have to write anything, dear," Aziraphale answered, kissing the back of Crowley's neck with all the tenderness he could muster.

Crowley hummed thoughtfully, rocked his hips back purposefully, and Aziraphale let his hands drift to carefully still his movement.

"Later. Right now, I just want… I want this, please." The please was unnecessary. Everything after 'later' was unnecessary, actually, because Crowley would stop the world from turning with as little as a look from Aziraphale, no questions asked.

"Of course, angel." Crowley stilled, lifted his hands up to rest over Aziraphale’s, gently spreading his fingers to fit his in between. “Anything you desire.” 

Aziraphale was hyperaware of each point of contact, the way Crowley’s thin form seemed to absorb the heat from Aziraphale’s body. He breathed in deeply, committed the scent of his dear Crowley in his bookshop to memory.

There was something completely new in the way that brimstone and marble, concrete and wood, melded in the air. It was crisp and old and sharp in a way that was overwhelming, in a way that wrapped around his thoughts until all he could think of was him and Crowley, tucked together, forming two parts of the same whole.

_"So are you to my thoughts as food to life,  
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;  
And for the peace of you I hold such strife  
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found."_

Crowley stirred a little, turned his head until he could just see Aziraphale from the corner of his eye. After a brief moment, Aziraphale’s cheeks pink as carnation petals, Crowley carried on the poem.

_"Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon,  
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;  
Now counting best to be with you alone,  
Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure:”_

Aziraphale brightened significantly, blue eyes wide in wonderment. He began reciting the poem again, a little louder, unable to hide his joy.

_“Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,  
And by and by clean starved for a look;  
Possessing or pursuing no delight  
Save what is had, or must from you be took.”_

Crowley craned his neck and pressed a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead before relaxing again. They said the last lines together, whispered it so that the words barely passed over their lips, barely graced their ears. They could feel the words, reverberating deep in each other’s chest, so hearing them was less than important, when they knew them so intimately.

_“Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,  
Or gluttoning on all, or all away."_


End file.
